Can't Drown My Demons
by Tinchester02
Summary: Dean Winchester. Mark of Cain. Maybe Cain's prediction would come true after all.


**Hello my fellow fictioners, I am coming to you with another story. I know I haven't updated my "Broken Dreams" fic yet, I'm stuck with that one. Inspiration just hasn't come to me for that one yet.**

 **I recently became a member of another fandom. I am a wee bit obsessed with the CW's Supernatural. When I say wee bit I mean completely. After watching all ten seasons in less than a week, I decided I would try my hand at a fic. Season ten's episodes Prisoner and Brothers Keeper I wanted to take a little shot at what would have happened. So I hope you enjoy. This is two parter. So a two shot if you will. Please let me know how it goes and I might write more SPN fics.**

 **Please enjoy.**

" _Has it never occurred to you? Have you ever mused upon the fact that you're living my life in reverse? My story began when I killed my brother and that's when your story inevitably will end. It's called the Mark of Cain for a reason. First you'd kill Crowley. There'd be some strange, mixed feelings on that one, but you'd have your reason. You'd get it done, no remorse. And then you'd kill the angel, Castiel. Now that one, that I suspect would feel something awful. And then, would come the murder you'd never survive. The one that would finally turn you into as much of a savage as it did me. You're brother Sam. The only thing standing between you and that destiny is that Blade. You're welcome, my son." – Cain._

Prisoner.

That's what the elder Winchester felt like after succumbing to the Mark of Cain. His own personal demons, fighting their way through his soul. After the death of Charlie, the demons became restless. Boiling within him. He didn't want to blame Sam for her death, but something was whispering in his ear, telling him that it was Sam's fault she was dead. It was his fault he couldn't cope with the Mark. Every time he thought he could beat it on his own, his younger brother would find a way to throw it back in his face. They stood in front of the pile of pine, wood and leaves and watched as Charlie's body was engulfed in flames. Dean knew she would want a Hunter's funeral so that's what he gave her. Dean stood silent with a stone look on his face. His jaw tight and his hands, balled in fist, shoved in his pockets. Sam stood beside him watching both the fire and his older brother. He finally spoke.

"Charlie, we're gonna miss you. You were the best. And I'm so sorry-" Dean interrupted him.

"Shut up," he said calmly. A little too calm. "You got her killed. You don't get to apologize." Dean kept his eyes straight, not wanting to look at Sam.

"We were trying to help you," Sam said, his voice cracking slightly.

"I didn't need help. I told you to leave it alone." He said, still staring straight ahead.

"What was I supposed to do? Just…" Sam paused, "Watch you die?"

"The Mark isn't gonna kill me."

"Maybe not, but…" Sam paused again, "When it's done with you, you won't be you any more. Dean you're all I've got. So, of course I was gonna fight for you, because that's what we do. Listen, I had a shot…"

"Yeah, you had a shot," Dean interrupted again. "Charlie's dead. Nice shot." Dean took a short glance at his brother and stared at him with cold eyes. And finally looked away.

"You think I-…" Sam started. "You think I'm ever… gonna forgive myself for that?"

"You want to know what I think?" Dean said, "I think it should be you up there and not her," he finished turning to face Sam. Sam's face struggled to keep together as he looked back at Charlie. "This thing with Cas and the Book ends now. Shut it down before someone else gets hurt, you understand me?" Sam cringed, his father's voice ringing through his ears. He turned to look at the elder Winchester.

"What about you?"

"Oh, I'm gonna find whoever did this, and I'm gonna rip apart everything and everyone that they've ever loved. And then I'm gonna tear out their heart." Dean's voice sounded a little too excited to be doing this act in Sam's opinion. Sam turned to face Dean again.

"Is that you or the Mark talking?'

"Does it matter?" Dean looked at Sam, his eyes flashing a bright green with anger. He turned on his heel and stalked back to the bunker, his fists in pockets tightening with each step he took, leaving Sam behind. Once he got inside, he grabbed a duffle, packed it with a few button downs, a pair of ratted jeans, his black dress shoes and a couple of "FBI" suits. He didn't know if he would need them, just took them just in case. He grabbed his white handled Colt from his nightstand and shoved it in his waistband behind his back. He threw his jacket over his shoulders, grabbed his bag and headed for his bedroom door. Not before glancing at him self in the mirror, noticing a hint of terror in his eyes. In the back of his mind, he knew it was a stupid move to go after the Stynes alone. But he didn't care. His demons wrestling within were urging him to go and spill as much of their blood as he could. He let out a sharp exhale before slamming the door shut and swiftly moved to his Impala. He opened the trunk and threw the duffle and shut it quickly. He climbed into the driver seat, roared her to life and sped away from the bunker, ready to take as many of them as he can before he was satisfied.

His search led to him to a little town just outside the state of Louisiana. He called another Hunter, Rudy to get some information before stalking somewhere blind.

"Rudy, I just sent you some security cam footage of a black sedan. I need you to run the plate," he said, getting back into Impala.

 _"Yeah, can do. Just give me a sec here," Rudy said on the other line. "Weird. Uh, the v-vehicle's registered to Eldon Styne out of Shreveport, Louisiana. But there's no street address. This guy got somethin' to hide?"_

"Yeah, big time. I'll fill you in later. Thanks," Dean said stalking toward his car.

" _Yeah, s-sure, but isn't that what Sam's for?"_ Rudy questioned, which made Dean roll his eyes.

"Uh, he's busy." Without another word, Dean shut his phone and shoved it back into his pocket. He climbed into the driver seat and sped off again.

After another hour of driving he came through the little town of Shreveport. His jaw hardened as he turned the corner, only to be stopped by the local police. He looked in his rear view mirror and rolled his eyes with a scoff. He turned another corner and pulled over to the side of the road and the squad car pulled up behind him. He watched as the cop got out of the car and stalked to his window. Dean squinted his eyes, trying to think if he was actually doing anything illegal. Other than the mass amount of weapons in the trunk, and the pile of fake ID's in the glove compartment. Once the cop was up to the window he leaned down and looked at Dean, and the inside of the car. Only to find it spotless. Dean looked up at the police officer and flashing his classic devil-may-care grin. "Problem, officer?"

"License and reg." The cop said sternly.

Dean nodded, "Yeah." He reached over the glove compartment and grabbed the first ID on the top. Reached above the sun visor and pulled the registration to the car, and finally handed them to the cop beside the car. The cop snatched them out of his hand and glanced up and down from the ID and Dean. Dean kept his smile in tact and looked right back, noticing another cop getting out of the squad car behind him. He noted to keep an eye on him, something in him just didn't feel right.

"Ashley J. Williams, huh?" the officer cocked an eyebrow and looked back down at Dean. Dean let teeth show in his smile this time.

"You can call me Ash," he said. His hand gripping the steering wheel.

"Out of the car, _Ashley_."

"Well, I wasn't speeding, I'm sober…" Dean said, stepping out of the car and walking to the back of the car with the cop, "Mostly sober. So what's this about?"

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked at the officer with a slightly confused but aware look on his face. He noticed the other officer step out of the squad car and walk to the back of the car. His piton in hand.

"Blinker's out," he first cop said calmly with a smug grin plastered on his face. A split second after he said that, the other cop smashed the passenger side blinker. Dean whirled around and stared at the other policeman.

"Hey!" he said taking a step toward the back of the car.

"That's a violation." The first policeman said, still grinning. Dean kept his eye on the smaller cop.

"Don't," Dean stated in a low warning voice.

"Two blinker's out!" the first cop said as the smaller cop busted the driver side blinker.

"You son of a bitch!" This time Dean tried to stalk toward the younger policeman to knock some sense into him, but the elder policeman grabbed Dean by the arm and slammed him against the side of the Impala, tangling his arms behind his back and cuffed him.

"And attempted assault on a police officer," the cop said, binding Dean's wrist together. "Looks like we're taking you down to the station, boy." He said leaning down on Dean's back to finish cuffing his wrist together. Dean's turned his head slightly, lips pursed together, ready to knock them both out.

"Oh, I ain't you're boy, Cletus," Dean said in a low husky tone. His nostrils flaring in anger.

"Right now you are, so you best settle, or you're gonna get an ass-whuppin' instead of a phone call." The older policeman said, tugging Dean to the squad car, throwing him into the back seat. Dean straightened his body and looked out of the window. He watched his car as they drove past it. Anger was pouring out of his as he looked at the back of the car, broken glass and bulbs laid on both sides because that cop thought he was cute. _He is gonna pay for that_. Dean thought. He let out a breath of air and thought to himself he might as well enjoy the ride, he knew it was going to be little bit before he could escape.

The two policemen dragged Dean into the station and sat him down in a chair in front of the younger policeman's desk. They took the cuffs off of Dean's wrists and cuffed his right wrist to the chair, so he wouldn't be able to get up and move. He pursed his lips in a small smirk. The younger cop had the Impala towed back to the station and raided the car. He found the trunck of hunting supplies, and Dean's box of ID's. He strolled back into the office and sat behind the desk and fumbled in the box picking up three different ID's. "Ozzy Osbourne, Lenny Kilmister, Freddy Mercury. Damn. I mean, they said you were a pro, but, uh…" the cop laughed at himself.

"Who said that?" Dean's brow perched, as he looked back at the cop.

"I'll ask the questions here." The cop shot. Dean hummed and nodded. "Like, for example, you got seventeen fake ID's and a trunk full of guns, knives, freaking ninja stars?" the cop grinned. Dean grinned back nodding his head. "I mean who are you, man?" he shrugged.

"I'm the guy that's gonna get out of here in about…" Dean looked over his shoulder, "Thirty seconds." He finished and looked back at the cop.

"Yeah, right." The cop scoffed. Dean puckered his lips outward, leaned up and placed his hand behind a coffee mug filled with pencils and pens. He tilted his head in amusement and began to slide the mug closer to the edge of the desk. When the cup was close enough, Dean pushed the cup off the table and leaned back in his chair, feeling very proud of him self. The cop looked at Dean with hooded eyes, clearly not feeling amused. He got up and bent town to pick up the mess, "Real mature." Dean looked over his shoulder again, balled up his left hand into a fist and slammed his arm against the side of the cops head. Dean grabbed the cop's arm and flung him over his lap back onto the floor on the other side of him. He held the cops arm against his leg and held onto his wrist. He wrapped the other leg around the arm and tugged, popping bones and joints, sending an irritating pain through the cops arm.

"Keys," Dean said calmly, "Keys now!" he finally yelled. The cop grunted as he reached to his belt and pulled a bundle of keys off and handed them to Dean. Dean snatched them up and lifted his leg and brought the heel of his boot down on the cop's head, knocking him unconscious. Dean unlocked the cuffs, looked down and grabbed the gun that was attached to the cops holster. He looked up and saw the elder policeman in the other office. He cocked the gun back and rested his finger along the side of the barrel, ready to put a bullet in the cop's head. He turned his head slightly, hearing the cop talking to himself. Then he noticed he was on the phone with someone. He walked closer to the door, gun at the ready.

"He was drivin' a '67 Impala. Just like you said." The cop paused, "Sure. Can do." He hung up the phone and turned slightly.

"Who you talking to?" he said quietly.

"Nobody,"

"Nobody?" Dean stalked to the cop, taking the butt end of the pistol and slamming it into the cops face. "That's for lying to me," he slammed the gun again, "And that is for my Baby. Now…" Dean grunted as he took the cop and slammed his body down on the desk, pointed the gun in his face, and leaned his body down so the cop had no where to go. "Who were you talking to?!" The cop grunted under Dean's body weight, breathing heavily, trying to get lose.

"Monroe Styne. He said if I saw you I was…" he paused to catch his breath. "Supposed to bring you in. and then call him," he finished with a grunt.

"Monroe. Any relation to Eldon?"

"His daddy."

"Where can I find him?"

"Oh, you can't take on the Stynes. They own this town. They're practically Gods around here." The cop strained. Showing the fear he held for the Styne family.

"Yeah." Dean said quietly, and smiled. "Well, I kill Gods." Dean took the butt end of the gun and smashed it against the older policeman's head, knocking him out. He leaned up and fixed his ruffled jacket. He went the computer that was on the desk and searched for the Styne's address. Once he located it, he jotted it down on a small piece of paper, grabbed the keys to his car and stalked out of the building. He spotted his car over by the impound lot. He jogged quickly and climbed into the driver seat and peeled out onto the main highway. This is his chance to get revenge for Charlie. To spill blood that deserved to be spilled. He didn't care about the consequences. He just wanted them dead.

Dean drove about ten minutes before he found the address he was looking for. The mansion was in clear view. He slowed the car down to an idle roll, shut off the engine and put it in neutral so he can still maneuver with the steering wheel. He turned off the headlights and scooted behind the bushes to hide Baby. He got out of the car quietly; only thing in his possession was his Colt and a small blade. He placed the gun in the waistband and tip toed around to the back of the house. He spotted a man walking and patrolling the house. A small grin played on his lips as he approached the man. He quietly walked up behind the man once his back was turned. He crept and launched himself at the man, grabbed the side of his face and punctured his neck with the blade. Once the man was lifeless, Dean threw the man onto the ground and continued his assault. He pulled the Colt from his pants and screwed a suppresser on the barrel to muffle the shots he would fire. He walked up behind another man, grabbed his shoulder with a hard grip and placed the end of the gun to his head and walked forward to the patio. He noticed another man patrolling and strolled up to him with the man in his arm. The other turned and stepped backwards, before he could do anything, Dean put a bullet in his head. The man dropped to the ground in a heap. He put the gun to the back of the man that was in his arms and put two bullets in his back. Before he could hit the ground, he pulled the man's gun from its holster and let him drop to the ground, dead. Dean turned to the door and slowly walked up to it. He slowly reached for the knob, turned it, and slowly opened the door. The door opened with a quiet squeak. He slowly walked into the house, a gun in each hand, finger on the triggers. He looked around at the nice, well kept room and continued walking forward. He looked down, noticing it was just too quiet for his liking. He took a step forward before the lights in the hall clicked on. He looked up and heard guns cocking and footsteps running down the set of stairs in front of him. He kept his arms at his sides and looked at the men before him. He heard another set of feet slowly making their way down the stairs. A man with white hair came into view. He looked down at Dean and smiled. He continued his decent down the stairs. Dean kept both eyes on the man, as he got closer to the end. The man was a couple steps from the bottom, and he clasped his hands together and threw them to the sides. "Dean Winchester!" He said, taking hold of the button on his jacket. Before Dean could make a move, his breathing was cut short. A man had crept behind him, threw a plastic bag over his head and stopped his ability to breathe oxygen. Dean dropped the guns and reached for the bag, hoping to tear it off before he suffocated. His breathing picked up and he was inhaling his own carbon dioxide. He struggled for a moment before the cloudiness in his head became too great. Dean's legs became mush as he tumbled to the ground. Still struggling for air, he let the darkness behind his eyes cover his body as he fell into unconsciousness.

Light soon started to show through his eyelids as Dean started to come to. His back felt cold and he felt something tight around his wrists. He looked around with his eyes closed to see if he could sense where he was. He finally opened his eyes, only to see a bright overhead light shining down on him. It took a second before his vision started to clear. He looked to his right and saw a fuzzy man standing beside him. His vision still blurry he looked at the man beside him.

"Good morning, sunshine," he said, a crooked smile on his face. Dean's brows stitched together, still trying to figure out where he was. He kept his eyes on the man, once his vision had cleared. "Monroe Styne. Pleasure." He said calmly.

"Ditto." Dean grunted. He tightened his fists and tried to move his arms, but he was restricted to the table he was laying on. "I'd shake your hand but, uh."

"Hmm, Well, I have to say I am impressed. The way you charged in here all guns blazin'. I'd buy tickets to that show."Monroe chuckled. Dean chewed on the inside of his cheek in frustration. "You didn't think that was really gonna work, did ya?"

"Usually does," Dean smirked. Monroe nodded his head down at him.

"Then, I guess you know what comes next?"

"You're gonna play _Operation_." Dean said sarcastically. Monroe scoffed and turned to the people standing behind him.

"It is my favorite game!" Monroe chirped.

"Don't do this," Dean kept his tone low and serious.

"Well, uh… Son, we are kind of past the bargaining stage.

"No, the…" Dean sighed, "The Mark on my arm means that I can't die." Monroe looked down at Dean's arm. The Mark of Cain in full view. Monroe glanced back at Dean. "I'm not bargaining. You flat line me I will come back. But I will come back with black eyes. And then you'll all die." Dean's tone was low and serious. Dead serious. There was no remorse in him what so ever. He knew if he did come back as a demon, he would have loved to slit every one of their throats, and not feel any kind of regret.

"And we'll let you go, then what?" one of the sons looked down at Dean. "You'll just mosey down the road?" he took his fingers and walked them down Dean's forehead and his nose.

"No. But I will be human, so maybe a few of you live," Dean said. "Maybe."

"You make a compelling case, and, uh, I-I hope you're right." Monroe spoke. "Because a man that doesn't die, well, now, that is a perfect lab rat." He nodded and another came behind Dean and placed a gag around his mouth and tied it behind his head. "All right. Let's crack this piñata." Monroe finished. Jerked his sleeves upward and held out a small scalpel. He placed a hand on Dean's chest, placed the blade just under his collarbone. His fist balled tight and he put all his strength in his arms, trying to break free from the shackles. He flicked his wrists and broke the restraint on his wrists and grabbed Monroe's hand, and slammed his forehead against his own, knocking the older man backwards. He picked up the meat cleaver on his side and sliced the other restraint, and threw his arm back to slice the neck of the man coming at him. Blood poured like a river as the blade sliced perfectly across his throat. Dean threw his legs over the table and jumped to his feet. The little nurse standing a couple yards away, breathes raggedly as she grabbed a syringe, ready to jam it anywhere on Dean's body to bring him down. Dean anticipated the attack and grabbed her wrist. He brought his leg under hers and flipped her so she was on the table, on her back. Dean snatched the syringe from her hand and jammed it into her neck. He looked down her, allowing the life to ease away from her. He reached up and pulled gag out of his mouth as he turned around to find Monroe crawling the door. Dean turned on his heel and grabbed Monroe by his shoulders, ramming him into the metal door. He wrapped his arm around Monroe's neck and placed his other hand on the opposite side of Monroe's head, holding him a chock hold. Monroe's hands scratched and clawed at Dean's forearm. Dean noticed nothing. He leaned down by Monroe's ear and breathed heavily.

"You took someone from me. Now I'm going to take everything from you."

"No," Monroe strained. "It's too late. Your home, your family, they will…" before Monroe couldn't finish the sentence, Dean's flexed his arms and applied more pressure to Monroe's neck. Dean looked forward, tightened his arms and hands and with one quick jolt of his arms, he heard the sound of Monroe's neck snapping. He let the man fall dead on the floor. He looked around and saw the people he killed. He breathed hard through his teeth as he pulled the gag the rest of the way off. He looked down to Monroe, bent down and grabbed the gun that was placed in his side holster. Dean turned on his heel and looked at the metal door for a moment. He bit his lower lip as he lifted his leg and slammed his foot into the door, knocking it down. The angrier he became, the more power he felt running through his veins. He knew the Mark had some sway of his power, and Dean welcomed it, knowing he would need as much power as possible to take down the last of the Stynes. He walked back through the house. Tossed Monroe's gun down and picked up his own. He kept his finger on the trigger just in case he ran into any more of the Styne family. Of course, he did. But he had no problem taking them out one by one.

He finally reached his car and peeled off onto the highway. Making it back to Kansas in record time, burying the needle of his speedometer.

Dean pulled the Impala in front of the Bunker, behind the truck that was parked there already. Monroe had said something about his home, so the truck belonged to the last remaining Stynes. Dean didn't know many but he knew he wouldn't have a problem getting rid of them. Dean crept up the door to the bunker. He walked down the long hallway, noticing light coming from where the door usually stood. His jaw tightened, knowing someone had been in his home uninvited. He slowed his pace and crept to the kicked in door. He heard men talking. One sounded big, the other sounded like Eldon, and the other sounded, young. Dean's human emotions started flowing back through his head. He couldn't kill a kid in cold blood. But as soon as that thought crossed his mind, the Mark quickly flooded anger in place of it. Dean inhaled sharply and stepped inside. Sliding the Colt back into his waistband. He heard the two men talking in the main library.

"Cool," the younger boy said.

"Hey!" the big voice echoed through the hallway. "This isn't a damn library."

"Yeah, it is."

"No reading," Dean heard the bigger man snatch something out of the younger boys hands and toss it onto a pile of something. Dean picked through his mind, wondering what they had a pile of. He shook his head and continued to listen.

"Box it or burn it." He said. Dean bit his lower lip again, making it bleed.

"Come on! Dude!" the younger boy whined.

"I know this is your first rodeo, but man up, okay?" the bigger voice softened his tone. " Now, I'm gonna go check out their sex dungeon. You stay here and finish up." Dean closed his eyes in mentions of the "sex dungeon". _Why does everyone think it's a sex dungeon?_ He thought to himself. He shook his head again, noticing a pair of footsteps coming in close to him. He hid in the shadows and the bigger man walked past him. He waited until the man was out of eyesight and followed him. He cracked him behind with his elbow. The man turned around to swing a punch but missed. Dean quickly got behind him and took the blade that was in his belt loop and jammed it into the man's spine. He watched as the man stumbled back toward the library. Dean followed slowly behind him. He could hear the other voices in the library, completely oblivious to what had just happened. He listened closely.

"So this is what I know about Dean Winchester. He's got crappy taste in music, got a hot mom," he paused as he looked at the picture of Mary Winchester. Dean heard that and his hands balled into fists. "And he loves flannel. All right. Let's light her up," Dean heard a flick of a zippo-lighter.

"Eldon, wait!" the younger boy called out. Dean grabbed onto the stabbed man, slapped him to make sure he was still awake. Even though he was bleeding out in front of him. "We don't have to,"

"I know, Cy. We get to," Dean now knew that Eldon was here. And he could end him right here too. He let the bigger man go and he stumbled up the stairs and into the door jam with a loud grunt.

"Roscoe?!" Eldon yelled. Roscoe fell to the floor dead. Dean thought it was his time to make his presence known. He slowly walked into the library and walked up the stairs to see all of their Lore books, his clothes, his music, and a couple of personal pictures piled on the floor, covered in lighter fluid. Eldon's face turned from shocked to calm as he looked at Dean. A smile played on his lips. "Well, there he is. I hope you brought marshmallows." Eldon said. Dean stopped in his tracks and looked at Eldon.

"Been lookin' for you." Dean said quietly.

"Oh yeah?" Eldon smirked, "Why's that? Oh wait. You're not still sore about, um…" he paused and smiled as he looked back at Dean. "What's her name?" Dean looked at Eldon, wishing he could put a bullet in his head and end him right there. But something in him was telling him to wait just a little while longer.

"Charlie. Her name was Charlie." He finally said. Eldon looked back at the young boy named Cy, then back to Dean.

"Yeah, well," Eldon paused, taking off his jacket. "Chucky, she got what she deserved." Dean kept quiet and stared at Eldon, hate boiling from within him. "What to know how I did her? It's a kinda funny story-"

"Shut up," Dean finally chirped. Eldon finished rolling up his sleeves and looked at Dean confused.

"Straight to it then? I respect that. See, you got lucky before. But this time, I'm sporting some new upgrades." He finished and raised his left arm, showing a tattoo. The last time Dean and Eldon were face to face, he was chained up down stairs behind the file lab. And he had ripped his own arm off to escape. And once Dean found out that Eldon was the one who killed Charlie, he was going to rip him apart again. "See my old man—"  
"You're old man's dead." Dean said, shutting Eldon up quickly. "They're all dead. So you can save me the speech on the uh, three hearts, the two spleens, the, uh, seven nipples, for the ladies, or the fellas. I don't judge. But, even with all that, you still only have one brain." Dean held up his index finger and dropped it again. Slowly reaching behind him without Eldon knowing, twisting his long fingers to grip the hilt of the Colt. His hand tight around it, ready to fire.

"So?" Eldon said, shaking his head. Dean didn't hesitate. He pulled his gun from his pants and fired. Putting a bullet into Eldon's brain. Dean watched as the man fell to his back lifeless. He lowered his gun to look at the man who took Charlie away. His eyes wondered around and remembered he had one more Styne to deal with. He raise his gun, taking target on the young Styne in front of him.

"No no no no no. Don't. Don't." Cy panicked.

"Why not? You're one of them," Dean said, motioning to Eldon.

"No," Cy said shakily. "No, I'm not. Okay? I hate my family. See, look!" he raised his shirt to show his bare stomach and chest. "No stitches! I'm not like them. I promise." His breath was ragged and panicked.

"Oh you are like them. There's bad in you. It's in your blood." Dean said stepping closer to Cy.

"No," he whimpered.

"Now you can deny it, you can run from it all you want. But that bad will always win." Dean was three steps away from Cy. He kept the colt aimed at his head. The cowering boy in front him didn't make him flinch like it would have in the past. But back them, he wasn't a Knight of Hell. Cy shook his head, borderline in tears and he quietly pleaded for his life.

"I'll do anything you want. Okay? Please?" Cy's voice cracked. He looked down at his dead cousins, Roscoe and Eldon. He was scared and Dean showed no pity. Cy's chin quivered as he look back to Dean. "You don't need to do this. Please?" a tears streamed down the younger boys face. He begged Dean to lower the gun and let him go. Dean looked at the boy and raised the gun and pointed it to the ceiling. He scratched his head with his thumb for moment.

"Yeah," Dean paused and continued to scratch his head. "I do." Dean pointed the gun back to the boy and shot before Cy could react. The young boy tumbled to the floor lifeless. Dean lowered his gun and looked down at the boy. His emerald green eyes faded dark and black before another voice brought him back. He turned around to see the Angel Castiel standing behind him.

"Dean!" Cas called out. Dean looked at Cas with a solid look on his face. Cas walked around Dean to examine the boy, even though he knew he was already dead. "What have you done? You killed him!" Cas stood and looked back at Dean, his eyes hard.

"I took down a monster. Because that's what I do." Dean said looking down at his pistol. He clicked on the safety and placed the pistol behind him in his waistband. "And I will continue to do that until—"

"Until you become the monster." Cas said softly turning completely around to face Dean. Dean looked Cas in the eyes and bit the inside of his cheek.

"You can leave now, Cas." Dean turned his back and started out of the room before Cas called out again.

"No. I can't. Because I'm your friend." Cas narrowed his eyes. Dean stopped and turned on his heel to face Cas again.

"Really? Let me ask you something. You screw over all your friends?" Dean asked loudly as he stalked back to Cas.

"Sam and I were trying to cure you! We still are!"

"Like hell."

"We can read the book now."

"Oh, so what? So you _might_ find a spell that _might_ take this crap off my arm? But, even if you do, what's it gonna cost? 'Cuz magic like that does not come free. No it comes with a price that you pay in blood. So thanks, but I'm good." Dean turned his back again, but Cas grabbed him by the shoulder and moved around to face him.

"No! You're not. Maybe you could fight the Mark for years, maybe centuries, like Cain did, but you cannot fight it forever. And when you finally turn—and you _will_ turn—Sam… and everyone you know, everyone you love—they could be long dead. Everyone except me. I'm the one who will have to watch you murder the world. So if there's even a small chance that we can save you, I won't let you walk out of this room." Cas kept his hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Oh, you think you have a choice?" Dean tilted his head. Cas dropped his hand.

"I think the Mark is changing you."

"You're wrong."

"Am I? Because the Dean Winchester I know would never have murdered that kid." Cas gestured toward the young body lying in blood. Dean turned and glanced at the boy.

"Yeah well…" Dean turned back to look at Cas. "That Dean's always been kind of a dick." Dean took a step, only to be stopped again.

"Dean. I don't want to have to hurt you," Cas said grabbing Dean's shoulder again. Dean looked at Cas, his green eyes fading again.

"I don't think that's gonna be a problem," Dean said quietly. He reached up and grabbed Cas's arm and threw a punch into Cas's cheek. Cas reached and grabbed his other shoulder after calling his name, Dean ignored it. He reached and grabbed his arm again, back handed Cas's face and throwing a left hook, but Cas blocked it. And blocked the right hook coming toward him. He grunted, feeling every inch of power Dean was putting in. Dean punch under the block, allowing Cas to drop his guard before throwing yet another punch into the angel's face. Dean grabbed Cas's shoulders and put a knee into his sternum and threw him to the floor between the bloody bodies. Dean watched Castiel struggle to get to his feet. He turned around and ran a hand down his face in disappointment. He hated fighting with the angel. He _was_ his friend, after all. But there was so much anger building in Dean's stomach, he couldn't control himself. He walked to the edge of the stairs before Cas called him again.

"Dean. Stop." Cas breathed. Blood running down from his lip and nose. Dean turned and looked at Cas again. This time, the anger took over; Dean couldn't hold it back any longer. He stalked to the angel, ready to throw another punch, but Cas anticipated it, moved swiftly and grabbed Dean and wrapped his arms around his upper body. Dean used the back of his head and launched a blow into Castiel's nose. Cas let go of Dean and grabbed his nose. Dean landed another blow with his knee, knocking the breath out of Cas. Dean grabbed him and threw across the room and onto a table. He walked over and grabbed Castiel's shoulder and neck collar, picked him up and slammed his face onto the table. And again. Again. Again. Cas's face was unrecognizable due to the smashed nose and bloody gashes. Dean threw onto the floor. He looked down at the angel. Dean knew Cas could fight. He knew he could hold his own against him. But Cas wasn't going to hurt his friend. He wasn't going to fight back. He dragged him out of hell and stayed by his side through everything. But there was so much anger built in the pit of Dean's stomach, he wasn't thinking about that at all. He was going to get everyone out of his way. His anger and hate from the Mark blinded him from reality. Right now Dean saw Cas as a threat that needed to be taken out. He didn't care. At that moment, he knew Dean Winchester was gone and a Knight of Hell was born again.

He bent down and rolled Cas over to face him. He glanced at the metallic blade sticking out from his sleeve. He reached down and retrieved it. An Angel Blade. One of two things that can kill an angel. He grabbed onto Cas's tie and looked down at him. He flipped the blade in his hand for better access. Cas reached slowly and grabbed Dean's wrist and pleaded for him to stop.

"Dean. Please." Cas said quietly. If Dean walked out of that room, Cas would easily heal himself. But Dean didn't want to have this encounter again. He looked at the blade for a second before looking back down at Cas. He raised his bladed hand and drove the blade straight down, into Castiel's heart. A loud grunt came from Cas's lips. Dean stood and backed away. A bright white light blinded him. He raised his arm to block the light. It dimmed out and he looked down at the scorched floor. A pair of broken wings had burned into the floor, attached to Cas's body. Cas's eyes remained opened and his head leaned to the side, lifeless. Another angel had fallen.

Dean stood and looked at the lifeless angel before him. He never thought Cas would die by his hand, let alone an angel blade. He dropped to his knees as the fog in his eyes retreated and his green eyes shown back through. He couldn't look at Cas. He looked down at his hands. So much blood had been spilled that day. Including his best friends. He let a sharp breath escape his throat and he felt the burning tears run down his cheeks. Cain had been right. He would take the Angel's life. He wondered if he would take Sam's life. If he distanced himself far enough away then he wouldn't have to worry about killing Sam. He couldn't lose anymore family. He couldn't lose any more friends. He sat there on his knees, letting every emotion he was feeling out. He cried. For the first time in years, he had let out the scared little boy that was buried deep inside him. He was becoming the very monster he hunted. Now it was time to move on, find a way to beat down the Mark and live with the name he'd given himself.

A monster.

 **I have a bad feeling that I'm going to get a lot of hate for this. The episode was completely the same until the very end. I was laying in bed watching this and I wondered what would the fandom do if Dean had killed Cas? I would have died myself. It pained me to write this, because I love Castiel and I love Dean. Ah! So many feels! Okay…. Let me me know that you think. And I will get started on the next part. Brother's Keeper. And yes you might know whats going to happen at the end of that one.**

 **Okay… Let me know how you liked it!**

 **Thanks! Blessed Be!**

 **Taylor**


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